Tales of Tails
by Grinning Wolf 24
Summary: Nightmares made real. Hazardous expeditions to parts unknown. Stolen instruments. It can only mean one thing- I'm busy writing short stories! On School of Dragons, many players create adoptable dragons awarded to the best story. As I spent many hours and a lot of brain-grease writing these, I figured that I might as well post them for your discernment. Warning: possible gore
1. Do No Harm

Author's Note: The first of my adoption short stories is for a HTTYD/Kingdom Hearts crossover dragon. Known as a "dream eater fury" it combats the forces of "nightmare furies". My particular dream eater fury is named Nesaka, and can be seen in my signature (Frostfire Markson) on the School of Dragons forum. Design and creation of the dream eater/nightmare furies is credited to NightmareRebuff. I did not make any of my adopted OCs (should be implied by the fact that they are adopted, but I am stating it again.) This story is relatively tame. No restrictions on this one.

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I ran along the cliff tops, my lungs burning and chest heaving. I couldn't think. Just run. I had to make it this time. I had to change it. Just _once_. The forest dwindled and I saw the valley, swathed in flames. Dragons were fleeing, their voices high and scared. A large flightmare buzzed by me, clipping my side and knocking me over in its panic. Down below, more dragons writhed in confused circles. The behemoth that towered over them was trying to use them. Control them. The gale it made sent a raiment of smoke around me. I struggled back upright, my eyes streaming and lungs choking as I stumbled forward. I hit the slope and tumbled forward, careening down to a heap on the valley floor. Dragon screams surrounded me. Ripped through me. Dazed, I didn't even notice the paws and claws galloping past, practically over me in their haste. I levered myself up, coughing, and panicked. I knew this part. I had seen this before.

Suddenly _she_ was there, my beautiful night fury, the embers suffusing her green wings with light. _Go! Fly! Save yourself!_ I wanted to scream at her, but the words bunched in my throat, coming out as a racking cough. Her black hide rubbed against mine, shielding me from the three pairs of malevolent eyes that glared down at me. I tried to push her away, to make her _understand_. All I could do was weakly bat at her side. Glowworm's chest rumbled, shaking with her voiced animosity. This so-called alpha dared to challenge _her_? To rule _her_ flock? To maim _her_ human? She roared a challenge, staking her superiority. No tyrant would rule while _she_ was alpha of the valley!

Instantly she was gone- aloft- shrieking her fury onto the head of the seadragonus maximus. "Nooooo!" I rose only a few inches before I fell to the ground again, my side soaked in blood. I laid, paralyzed, as the two rulers fought for the right to the valley. I saw other dragons take up her call, joining in to defend their home. Wellspring, my dear clumsy scauldron, blasted the beast's nose, and fell to the angry claws, crushed. My tiny Deceptibite, Munchball, disappeared in the snap of fangs, her lead-tainted scales ineffective against this juggernaut. Beast, the gentle skrill, my father's pride and joy, impacted on the earth, a wing torn to shreds. Oakheart, my partner, my solace, my monstrous nightmare, disappeared in a wash of flames. The gruesome image of Snufflesnort's fragile body crumpling against that macehead tail and slowly settling back to earth finally snapped me back. My raptortongue. My little baby girl. Gone.

Tears of emotional and physical pain gushed down my face. I watched as all my dragons- my patients, my rescues, my successes... My friends.. were one by one decimated; destroyed. Jetstream, Flora, Tinscale, Sandsurfer... And I lay helpless to do anything. I cried out in desperation, wanting to do _something_! Slowly, painfully, I forced myself up. I dragged myself up. I searched overhead, desperate to see the last of my dragons, my always faithful Glowworm. She still was circling overhead, firing shot after shot of plasma at the challenger. The seadragonus crouched down, seeming to be recoiling from all the shots. The muscles bunched, and I stared in horror as the monster leapt into the sky, snapping his jaws closed on my best friend. He shook her like a doll, and dropped her. Freeze frames of her dropping burned into my brain. My vision went red. Suddenly, I had the strength again. I ran. "Glowwoooooorm!" The world froze. Her body crunched onto the earth, bouncing slightly on the impact. I was next to her. "No, no, no, no…" I had lost. She was gone. "I'm so sooorrryy…." Sobs wracked my body as I hugged her neck.

The world was gray. The warmth seeped out of the form, and everything else faded away. Just like every time I had to suffer through this recurring nightmare. I could never change the ending; never save anyone. I stepped back, not able to do anything. I was turning to walk away, check the wounded, when her body twitched. I turned back, disbelieving. Her shoulders shrugged, and she slowly started to look for her footing. But it wasn't quite right… It was jerky, disconnected. Like a puppet. She finally stood, and the last thing she lifted was her head. "Glow-glowworm? Whaa-" The beast was purple and black and green, and there was no love or pity in its eyes. My dear night fury was gone. This- this- _nightmare_ was not her. It disjointedly stalked towards me, growling in _her_ voice. I turned to run, but the valley was gone. The scene I had watched for so many nights was gone. I was now at the School of Dragons. I knew this cliff well. This was the place Yarlo had beat me up. Like a twisted parallel, I ran and tripped, the thing coming to stand over me. It lifted its forepaw to strike, opening its jaws in a nightmarish grimace. It struck in the stomach, drawing more blood, and, like that night, causing me to scream. Its grimace got wider, relishing in my pain and fear. My breathing increased as I tried to refill my lungs. It pressed a paw down heavily on my throat, slowly adding weight. My vision started to dance and disappear. A roar sounded, and light darted towards me. _Oakheart…_ my dying, delusional brain laughed at the memory. _Sorry boy, but you can't rescue me now…_ The light careened into the dark, knocking it away. I lay stunned and near unconscious as the light wrapped around me. _Mmm.. Oakheart, are you here to take me to Valhalla? I've really missed you…_ My brains slowly swirled back to sanity as air returned. As my vision pieced back together, I looked up, ready to see my dragons again, not caring if I was dead or not. I blinked. The light was not Oakheart's green fire, like in the memory. This was… orange. And blue. And literally _glowing_. "Night fury?" I coughed out to myself. "... No. Angel." I gasped it out, feeling more satisfied. I smiled despite my pain. "Glowworm." The 'night fury angel' continued to stand over me. I knew it had to be Glowworm. This dragon radiated her spirit of protection and aloofness. I slowly turned my head to see the nightmare-Glowworm still growling on the perimeter. It roared out a breath of dark fire, and my angel cloaked us in snow. I giggled childishly. I loved snow. My angel started to glow brighter.

" _DO NO HARM."_ The words threaded into the air. It thrummed with emotion. I didn't recognize the voice, and yet it was perfectly familiar. The dark beast roared, charging back toward us. The light continued to swell, and at the apex it leapt onto the nightmare, biting its neck. In slow-motion, like fog, it collapsed inward and dissipated. The glowing subsided, and my angel turned back to face me. I.. felt good. Better than in a long time. I stood up, in perfect health. There weren't even rips in my clothing. "Thank you, Glowworm. I-I-" I looked down, a dribble of tears falling down. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you." It trotted over, lifting my head with the tip of her snout. She locked eyes with me. My heart fell. It was like we were connected in that instant, and I knew she wasn't really Glowworm. She was just a lot like her. She had the same spirit. "I-I- understand. You- you are.."

" _DO NO HARM."_ I wasn't sure if it was a voice again, or an echo of before, but I heard it.

"Nesaka." I smiled just a tiny, sad smile. "You're Nesaka. The protector. Thank you." I stroked her head, and the dream started to fade as sensation came back to my body. My eyes opened. I sighed. I finally felt slightly peaceful. It had been a year since I had felt this- hope. I paused to consider my dream. Maybe my mind was finally over the guilt. Maybe I really _was_ finally free. And all because my mind had brought back Glowworm to me- in a way. I stood up, and started walking downstairs, still pondering. As I passed the fireplace, I saw a faint glow. I started, glancing over. In front of the fire my angel lay, dozing in the warmth. I sank onto the stairs, dazed. A true smile spread across my face like a sunrise. "Ne- Nesaka. You- you weren't a figment of my dreams!" She stirred, her ears twitching. She made the lowing sound that Glowworm used to make that meant 'well of course'. She put her head back down, still not finished dozing. I snuck over, sinking down next to her. She twitched slightly, but didn't move. I curled up beside her, smiling as my eyes closed. No more nightmares.


	2. Puirt-a-beul

Author's Note: This story has no restrictions. It is pure humor and actually is a lot of fun. :) This story was written to adopt Legato, the Celtic-inspired music fury from NightmareRebuff. As always, you can see him in my (Frostfire Markson) signature on the School of Dragons forum.

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"Alright, all of you, out! I'm done with you all blocking out my light with your big snouts in my way!" I huffed annoyedly at the various dragons in the stables around me. Technically it was the infirmary, but we didn't have any dragons in drastic need of slings or splints at the moment. It had seemed like it would be the quietest spot to work- possibly the only current quiet spot in the whole sanctuary. But then, this is me we are talking about. The girl that dragons flock to just to annoy. Right. Lucky me.

After shoving a still-chattering Nadder out I sat down on the hay again. The skylight let golden beams shine through from the mid-day sun, and the minute dust motes danced in the beams. I looked back down at the Nadder horn in my hands. The pale blue-gray object was perfectly smooth and straight, about as long as my forearm. I had waited impatiently for this season's spring molt. When it finally arrived, I had almost missed the chance to search through the various scales, horns, and claws that the dragons shed to find this beauty. "Now, let's try this aga-" I had started talking to myself as I laid my knife against the side, but halted when the light disappeared again. A gaggle of mini dragons was peering at me through the skylight. I gave an exasperated sigh. "I didn't push the big ones out the door to have you little ones sitting in the window!" I called up at them. All I received for my trouble was them tumbling down to form a happy dogpile, er, dragonpile on top of me in the hay. I started shoving them around, but I couldn't stay serious for long. These hatchlings knew just where I was ticklish. "Snufflesnort! Tinscale! Munchball! Stop! Stop it! I mean it!" I was laughing quite hard by this point, and finally managed to roll out of the tangle of limbs and tails to catch my breath on the floor. As I calmed down, and they continued to roll in the hay, I leapt back up.

"Guys!" My annoyance was back in a flash. It was now mixed in somewhere in the pile! I stalked forward, ready to start ripping the pile to shreds when I noticed another shadow from above. I shaded my eyes as I looked straight up through the skylight, but I needn't have even looked. Oakheart, my partner, was poking his head down, the spine clamped firmly in his large, safe Nightmare jaws. I breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, boy. Thanks Oak. I would hate to lose this after all the trouble of finding it in the first place." He just chuffed at me, then withdrew. With a final look at the now-decimated pile of hay, I walked out, looking for somewhere else to work. Somewhere with less hatchlings. I had decided on trying Wellspring's waterfall when Oakheart strode over from the top of the hill that housed the stable. I reached up to rub his neck, and he hummed, crouching down for me to get on.

As we took to the air, I realized what a beautiful day it was- skies clear, air crisp, and all the smells that told of the new start of spring. As I held tight to the spine, I didn't even steer. Oakheart flew his own course, eventually carrying me out of the mountains that were our home and housed our safe haven for dragons of all sorts. I smiled as he pulled up over the pass, setting his nose towards the town at the far South of the Island of Berk. "So, you think town would be better, eh boy? Well, you just might be right." As was his norm, he landed on the seastacks just off the edge of the island, and I slipped off, settling into the crook of his hip as he settled down to nap in the sun. I spent several hours there, leaning back against his side as I carved the delicate curves of this treasure. As the sun passed its zenith, I held it up at arm's length.

"What do you think? It's starting to take form." Oakheart lifted one eyelid, huffed out an unintelligible sound that I took as advice to keep working, and then settled down again. I would have spent at least another few hours there, had my stomach not voiced its complaint. At this, my dragon finally pulled himself out of his drowse, lifting me up by the scruff and depositing me on his back. I shreed at him as he roughly took off, heading back towards town. Didn't he know that I was fine?!

But, I stopped arguing with the lizard once we landed at the market and I had brushed the ash off my collar. The smells were highly enticing, and I quickly darted between stalls, purchasing various small snacks. I finally collapsed against his side, a small mountain of food on my lap. As I dug in, I heard the distinctive sound of a wooden flute, and looked over to a stranger sitting on a crate. Even more odd than the stranger- a man in a bright green and gold skirt- was a small red and gold dragon in front of him, dancing and humming along, weaving complex harmonies as it spun. The movements were entrancing, and the tune was uplifting. I soon forgot my hunger as I was lost in them. After a few tunes, the man tossed some sort of food to the creature, and it started gobbling it up as children came up the pet it. I finished my own meal, walking off toward the forge. After the beating that carving a dragon horn caused, my knife really needed to be sharpened before continuing. As I chatted with my favorite one-armed smith, I twirled the horn in my hands.

"Ain't you finished with tha' thing yet? I would have thought with how fast you could carve whistles that you would be done like tha'." He snapped his remaining fingers. I laughed.

"No, not yet Gobber. I am really taking my time. After all, this one is special. If I'm going to give it to Braggart for his birthday, it's got to be great."

"That brother o' yours doesn't realize how good a' sister 'e's got." Gobber mumbled as the whetstone whined along the knife edge. I just let it slide, tossing the spine between my hands, spinning it as I went. I got into a decent rhythm when suddenly my hands jerked- and the spine was nowhere to be found. I looked around frantically, finally looking up to see a tiny red night fury retreating up to the peak of the forge's roof. Clamped in his jaws was the nadder spine that I was meticulously carving into a flute. My eyes widened in horror.

"Hey, hey, bring it back like a good little dancing dragon." He ignored me, curling up and starting to chew on the side of it like a bone. I winced, still baby-talking to it as I tried to encourage him down. Gobber finally finished, and walked out, wondering what I was looking at on his roof.

"Wha'? I start a fire or something up thar?" I just pointed. "Oi, no. I wish you the luck of Thor, missy. That's the only thing that will get your flute back now. That little klepto has been hanging around for weeks, and I've never seen anything that he gets ever be found again." I let out a groan. "But, all the other horns were sold right after the molting season. And Trader Johann will be the next archipelago over by now!"

"Well, then you better get climbing. Just don't fall." He turned to walk back in.

"Wait, aren't you going to help me?!"

"Hm? Oh, here- don't mess with the wee devil. Just go look for something else. There's my help."

"I'm being serious, Gobber."

"So am I." Then he truly left, and I watched in horror as the mini fury did as well. I chased it as best I could from the ground, but of course not even another dragon can catch a night fury, especially a zippy little one like this. Eventually I came back to the square, spying the performer again. I ran up, scanning the sky before turning to the man. "Where in the world did you get this- this- dragon?" I finished quite lamely, unable to find proper descriptors for the beast that had just ruined the best birthday present I had ever set out to give.

The man let out a laugh. "What, Puirt-a-beul here? Well, you better ask him. He found me. Here, actually. But I sure ain't complainin'. He's the best little performer I could ask for." I looked to where he pointed, surprised and yet not to see the creature sitting on the stoop behind him again, fluteless, of course. Just my luck.

"He took my flute."

"Well, I'm afraid that I can't do anything about that. Like I said, he's not my dragon, and I have no idea where he came from or where he's going. Now, if you'll excuse me." And he lumbered off, his own flute tucked safely under his arm. I turned to glare accusingly at the burgundy dragon.

"Where is it, you dervish?" The dragon didn't say anything, just blinked and came over to rub against my leg, looking for attention. "Oh, no you don't! I need that flute you took!" When it continued to ignore my request while still looking for scratches, I finally gave up and gave it a gentle kick. It gave a yelp and looked at me with a hurt expression. "Hey. It's your own fault. I'll find it with our without you."

I spent the rest of the afternoon asking everyone if they had seen the dragon and where they noticed it the most. It was mostly fruitless, other than learning that it had a plethora of nicknames and that most people were treating it as a sort of "outdoor pet". I sat on a convenient bench, sighing. I looked up only when Stoick came past, grumbling. "Hey, what's wrong chief? Did the Scotch steal something from you too?"

He balked, looking confused. "Um.. no?" His eyebrows quickly beetled again. "The main chimney in the great hall is acting up. I have to go give it a look. It's pushing all the smoke back down into the hall." A spark connected in my mind.

I ran to catch up with the chief's long strides. "Hey! Let me help!" He nodded, and we climbed the hill over the hall. After some very dirty dives into the chimney, we soon realized the problem: a horde of objects shoved down the convenient hidey-hole.

"Oi. I think I know exactly who pulled this prank. And I don't appreciate the twins humor."

"Don't worry Chief. I don't think the twins did it this time."

"Oh?" His quizzical look was resolved by sudden appearance of an ornate and screeching miniature night fury. "Oh. That." The beast huffed, rumbling flats and sharps under its breath while swarming over the pile of debris we had removed from the chimney. It had mostly been useless garbage, with a few mugs, shoes, and various trinkets mixed in, but no flute. I snorted slightly under my breath.

"Typical. None of my stuff to be found." I pulled my dragon whistle out and blew, summoning Oakheart to my side in a minute. The red dragon hissed, but otherwise ignored Oakheart. "Come on boy, let's go home. If we're lucky one of the younger dragons will go through a late molt and I can make him a new whistle with one of those little spines."

I did manage to find a small spine to make a whistle, and Braggart rather liked it, but it just wasn't the same. It was the day after his birthday, though that the biggest surprise came. I was looking for the rest of his honey cake (best breakfast ever, by the way!), but it was nowhere to be found. Just a few crumbs. In disgust I looked over at the napping terrible terror by the hearth, shaking my head before heading out. But that wasn't the end. Other things were gone- my spare dragon whistle, my extra sewing scraps, and even a rather larger chunk of twisted metal that used to be my father's hammer.

It wasn't until nearly a week after my brother's birthday that I caught sight of the culprit- that red mini night fury. "Oi!" I shouted at it, when I spotted it sitting next to our house's chimney. "Get out of here you nuisance!" I waved my arms, but it just seemd to think that I wanted to play, starting to dance and hum on the roof. I turned away, taking a deep breath. "Oh, Odin help us."

I never did find where he put my flute, but I do see him chewing it from time to time. I can only assume that he moved his stash to somewhere in the sanctuary, because he has never left since. Though, he does disappear every once in a while when that skirt-wearing, flute-playing man appears in town...

It took a while for me to warm up to him, but it's kind of hard to hate a dragon that snuggles up against you in the night, curling up in your arms like a teddy bear. And really, he's not so bad now that I know him.. he's actually kind of fun...


	3. Midsummer Storm

Author's Note: This tale was for the adoption of a monster fury known as the slime fury. While mimicking horror genre, it stops just short of entering it. No special ratings on this one. Sliplock the slime fury was adopted from NightmareRebuff, and he can be seen in my (Frostfire Markson) signature on the School of Dragons forum.

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Storms were rolling across the Isle of Berk, drenching everything indiscriminately. While Berk is known for it's share of horrid weather, storms of this caliber were still rather rare. But, every once in a while you would get one of these summer storms that would knock over a few more of the trees on Raven's point, blow off half the thatch on Bucket's roof, and tear the rigging on a few of the ships. (Or maybe that was just the twins). Lightning was flashing every few seconds, and the thunder sounded like Odin's largest and wildest party was in full swing up there in Valhalla.

But tucked away in their compound under the hills, the residents of the Northern Valley Dragon Sanctuary were cozy and dry, sitting in the lamplight as they played a game of liar's dice. Few could judge exactly what this place contained, or would guess that the stables built underneath the hills were as extensive as nearly all of Berk, but yet they were. If you were to fly overhead, the only landmark that would give away the sanctuary's location would be a humble wooden home in roughly the center of the valley, surrounded with grassy hills on all sides before flattening out into lakes, fields, forest, and eventually the ring of mountains that enclosed this land. While so simple to see, each hill was itself a stable, hollowed out and supported inside. And underneath all of them was a complex system of tunnels that connected all. While most of these tunnels were only big enough for humans, there is one tunnel that leads from underneath the main stable to a natural cave at the edge of the mountains. And it was in this tunnel, and in this cave, and in this stable that the dragons took shelter during such storms. Dry and warm they slept on, waiting out the horrible winds and sounds that terrorized the land above.

"Ha! You're a liar!" Braggart shouted out, thrusting an accusing finger at me.

"No." I smiled smugly. I slowly lifted the cup that concealed my 5 dice. His face exploded in disbelief.

"No! You cheated! No one gets all 6's! Ever!" In his huff, he knocked over his own cup, scattering his two remaining dice. I just shrugged, scooping my dice back into my cup.

"Do you want to keep playing or what?"

"No." He was half-turned away from me. "If you're just going to keep using this lucky streak I think it's better if I play with Midas."

I giggled, imagining him attempting to play Liar's Dice with his gronckle. It was actually rather amusing, picturing the large golden-brown dragon tossing the dice about as it flung the cup in the air. It was so funny that I started laughing out loud, and he came over to start punching me in the arm. Eventually, we both ended up coated in dust and hay, sprawled on the floor and heaving in great gulps of air as we laughed uncontrollably. The dragons that happened to be sitting in this part of the tunnel grinned, as if saying 'Humans are such amusing creatures.'

Suddenly, everyone was alert. A single, piercing scream lit down the tunnel- a human scream. Instantly we were on our feet, jumping tails and dodging wings as we scrambled towards the cave end of the tunnel. Smaller dragons scattered before us and large ones were vaulted over like hurdles, grumbling that we had disturbed their sleep. But we didnt' care. We knew that scream. Finally, barely a hundred feet from the end of the tunnel, we found the source: the youngest of my three brothers, six-year-old Loki. He was sprawled on his back, wailing and holding his hands over his head, through which was seeping a disturbing shade of red...

I instantly pulled them down, and breathed a sigh of relief that it was only a mild scrape. I cradled him in my arms, calming him down. "Shhh. What happened buddy?"

Snot was dripping down his nose, and his eyes were bloodshot from crying. "I- I- was playing with the draaa-aa-aagonssss" He gave a cough, choking on the force of his own crying. "An-nnnn-nnd I saw the biiiii-iig one come in. And I wanted to pla-aaaay wi-iiff himmmmm." He hiccuped again, and Braggart handed me a scrap of cloth that he always kept in his back pocket for such situations. After blowing his nose very loudly, Loki was starting calm down a little. "Aaa-nnd I wanted to pet him and plaa-aaay chase, and he huuuu-uurrrt meeeee!" Now he took up full-strength wailing again. "Aaaaaa-aand my head went BOOM!" I turned to look at Braggart. We knew all the dragons in the sanctuary, and while a few would play rough, they would NEVER hurt any children. Especially Loki, who they all knew.

"Frost, look at the floor." Braggart lifted the lantern from the wall up, causing the floor to glimmer. My eyes widened. This wasn't water. It was some sort of... slime. I riffled through the list of dragons we cared for, but none matched the description of dripping ooze. I clutched Loki tighter as he hiccuped. A large, unknown dragon who wasn't concerned about attacking children. It was about this point that Flora, a very kind and motherly Snaptrapper that adopted my mother came in.

"It's alright, Loki. We'll find it. We'll make it apologize." He just nodded as he snuggled his face into the front of my vest. I cringed slightly at the snot, but I let it go. I then handed him off to Flora, who waddled away down the tunnel, probably taking him to her nest of cloth scraps until Mom came to get him.

We each pulled out our whistles, giving a quick and silent call to our respective dragons. When their familiar forms came into sight, we looked at each other. "If you find it, give a whistle and we'll come help you take it down."

Braggart nodded. "Alright. Same for you. Any idea what this thing is?" I shook my head. I had never heard of a large, slime-oozing dragon. "Well, stay safe." I nodded.

"You too." We parted ways, heading down separate offshoots of the main tunnel. These natural shoots in the rock were mostly dead-ends, but a few curved around and eventually disappeared into smaller tunnels and caves before looping back into the main branch again. It could take forever if we didn't know which way it headed. But, there were only two real possibilities- the trail of slime I was on, or the trail of slime that Braggart was following. Light from the lantern I held made a dim pool around Oakheart and I, only just illuminating the tunnel in front. I was lucky Oakheart was with me at all- his vision was much sharper and without him I most likely would walk right past it in the dark tunnels. As the path widened into a natural cave dripping with water and stalactites, a low moan filled the air. The back of my neck prickled, and even Oakheart froze. As we listened, the sound magnified and changed, bouncing around off the uneven walls, mixing with the sound of dripping water. It almost sounded... like some kind of music?

I dismounted Oakheart and slowly walked forward, peering around a boulder. In the dim light off the water, I spied a small figure, crouched over something, chewing and rolling around. "Legato? What are you doing?" The figure startled, dropping the item with a sad *clack!*. It rolled across the uneven floor, tapping against my boots. I picked it up, then glared good naturedly at the musical night fury. "So, this is where you were hiding my flute, eh?" The fury looked abashed, and mewed slightly as it came over to perch on my shoulder, snuggling against my neck. With my free hand I scratched his chin, relieved that it wasn't the monster dragon we were looking for, but disappointed that it was still out there. After several more hours of searching, I circled back to the main tunnel, meeting up with Braggart and calling it quits for the night.

"Did you find it?"

"No, just Legato's hiding place for the flute that I meant to give you for your birthday." I held it out, but it was coated in chew marks now, and wasn't worth working on anymore. "You?"

"I think I might have glimpsed it at some point. I saw some sort of figure staggering around. It was pretty big and formless, though, so I couldn't tell what species it might have been. It was pretty uncoordinated and out of sorts, but I lost it when we reached the triple fork because my lantern went out. That's when we decided to come back up."

"Well, the storm is almost over. Maybe it will leave when it doesn't have to take shelter anymore."

The next day was gorgeous, as it almost assuredly is after such torrential rains. Everything was washed clean and the plants were vibrant. We were all splashing around near Wellspring's waterfall, and the dragon seemed happy for the attention. "Hey boy, how was the storm?" I scratched under his chin, just where the Scauldron liked it. He closed his eyes in happiness. "You like some good rain, don't you?" He purred, then turned to spray some water as Bjorn pulled on his tail. The pair trampled off into the shallower water, making it go everywhere. I looked at Braggart, thinking about the night before. "Just where do you think that thing went?"

"I don't know." He seemed lost in thought, which was unusual for the comedic Braggart. "I just hope it lef-"

"Draaaaagggggoooooonn!" Loki's cry sent us careening up the hill, and even was enough to bring the carefree Wellspring out of his pond, galloping up the slope. Loki was running towards us, a small lime green thing on his heels, which was then followed by Legato, Glowworm, Oakheart, Midas, and a possee of other resident dragons. We started running towards them, and I tried to get to Loki, who tripped just seconds before the green thing caught up. It made a leap- but was stopped by Wellspring, who snapped his jaws shut on it. I slid into the ground, grabbing up my little brother.

"Loki! Loki look at me! Are you alright?!" He was slightly teary-eyed from the fall, but otherwise looked fine.

"I was playing with the dragon again. He doesn't like the bigger dragons." His small face pouted, looking up at Wellspring, who was turning slightly greener than usual. Now safe, I put Loki down, concerned for the Scauldron.

"Wellspring?..." I reached up, but the dragon started to thrash around, his eyes rolling. "Wellspring!" I tried to grab his head, but then gave up, instead trying to shove him back down the hill towards his pond. Finally, I shifted his balance, and he rolled away, causing a tidal wave as he landed. I raced after him, and arrived just as he weakly sprayed a small amount of water and green slime out onto the shore. I stroked his head, but he seemed better now, panting and soaking in the water.

I looked over at the green thing on the shore, which was jiggling slightly. Loki went over to it, poking it. "Dragon? Draaaaagon? Where did you goooo?" He sat, looking at it like he had broken his favorite toy. I ignored it. It had twice tried to hurt him. And yet... I looked back over as Loki started to giggle. The gelatinous mass was reforming into a small night-fury-esque shape. When it was mostly whole, it shook itself, and then quickly threw itself into Loki's arms, trying to disappear from the stares surrounding it.

Braggart tried to take it, but Loki wailed, and a small, watery wail came from his arms as well. "NNNOOOOO! You can't take my dragon! He's mine!" I sighed, walking over.

Braggart growled out, "We can't let him keep that thing. It tried to hurt him."

"Not really. It tried to run away. Loki tried to chase it the first time, and then us, and then all the other dragons after that. It just wanted to get away." He huffed, unsatisfied but trusting my judgement. "And, the water…" I watched it finish reforming as it huddled and shivered against his chest. "It absorbs it, like flour. It keeps it whole and formed. But too much makes it.. disoriented. And then still more makes it dissolve completely."

"So, what exactly to do we call this thing?"

"Sliplock!" An ecstatic Loki called out, snuggling into the goo. I winced at the stains on his clothes, and then again as it licked at the snot on his face, but I let it pass.

"Good enough."


	4. Swamp Demon

Author's Note: This one I am giving a warning beforehand. THIS STORY IS GRAPHIC. It is solidly in the horror genre. I used this, uh, piece of work to adopt Lantanis, a swamp fury from NightmareRebuff. As always, this dragon can be seen in my (Frostfire Markson) signature on the School of Dragon's forum.

* * *

"Hey, you two, cut it out!" I laughed, doubling over as the two mini furies chased each other around my shoulders, tickling my neck. I was twitching as their tiny paws scrabbled across my back, and I did my best not throw them off.

"Want some help?" Braggart grinned, pulling both off by the scruffs of their necks, to which they both mewed in protest. I then received Legato from his right hand, and we both held a mini fury in our arms as we looked back out on the swamp.

"This environment is very dense and hard to navigate. Very few have seen the dragons within, except for us natives." I looked over at our guide, a slim, dark-skinned man slowly pushing our barge along with his long pole. "You must be careful, as many species here are just as harsh as the environment." We both nodded, and I giggled as Sliplock tried to bury himself in Braggart's vest, only succeeding in creating massive stains.

"This was my favorite vest! You little blob." He glared at the large, gelatinous eyes, which were full of remorse. "Oh, no you don't!" As he tried to jump out of his arms, Braggart held tight, chuckling. "We're not losing you this early on."

Legato gave a quick mimic of the chuckle, wriggling out of my arms to perch on my shoulders. The sound bounced off the smooth-barked trees, and he started to truly sing, his voice thrumming through the air and bouncing off the acoustic-happy plants. I hummed along, sinking to sit on the raft as I paged through my personal Book of Dragons. The well-worn, earmarked manual had many leaves sticking out of various pages, scribbles and notes on others, and various pieces of evidence of rare and exotic species shoved in. It was without a doubt the most complete and up-to-date manual on dragons. But of course, Hiccup and I had a little rivalry going with that. I was going on my own exploration trips as often as I could to stay ahead of his own discoveries- though he was more focused on the mapping aspect of exploring than the actual dragons. There were a few dragons that I knew of as swamp dwellers, but Mudlappers and Whipfangs were hardly anything to scoff at, with as common as they were. I wanted to get deep into the heart of this reclusive swamp, and see what no vikings had seen before.

I heard Sliplock's watery whistle of alarm and Braggart's shout before feeling the barge jolt in the water. The guide called out something in another language- possibly a prayer, or more likely, a curse. He tapped his pole around, but seemed highly dissatisfied. "We've struck a root. We're going to be stuck here until we can free it, or until the water rises in a few hours." I was disappointed. I wanted to go deeper in, but I supposed it could be worse- at least the raft wasn't sinking. I would be willing to wait for now. The guide, on the other hand, was looking quite jumpy. He looked at the sunlight through the dense canopy of mangrove trees. "It will be dark before the water rises, and we'll need to keep watch for some rather, um, pretentious and nasty sets of fangs, to put it nicely."

I wasn't as bothered as the guide, but he knew more about this area than we did. _Also believes more superstitions than I do._ I chuckled, ruffling Legato's ears. Dragons were dragons, and most didn't truly have to be feared. And if we got into a tight spot, I could probably find some friendly Mudlappers to help us out or at least shelter us in their burrows. Such sweet-natured dragons, they are the good samaritans of the animal kingdom. Other than dragons, I didn't fear much. Ghosts weren't real, and as long as you were cautious, mother nature could only really through horrid weather at you.

"I'll take first watch." The guide looked relieved as Braggart volunteered. I cocked an eyebrow, but he just patted Sliplock's skin, and mouthed "poor eyesight". I nodded, knowing he preferred to have me and Legato alert for when it would be truly dark, and when it would truly count. A few hours later, I was sitting on the edge of the barge as Legato snuffled around near the water. Small clusters of fireflies floated around clusters of phosphorescent moss. It was actually rather peaceful, set to the sounds of Whipfang warbles in the distance and the soft susurrations of wind in the drapes of hanging plants. It was so peaceful…

As the sun rose, I stretched, having actually enjoyed my night on the barge. We were drifting gently on the currents, occasionally glancing off the trunks of trees as they shepherded us along into the swamp. I stretched, disturbing Legato who was snoozing peacefully on my chest. He mumbled out a low croon, but otherwise kept quiet as I sat up, switching him to my arms. The guide was curled in a ball around his precious pole on the rear, while Braggart and Sliplock were sprawled out in a heap next to me, snoring gently.

I smiled gently, amused and happy to see they at least were able to relax. I dangled my feet off the edge into the water, which was clearer here than where we were stuck before. It was cooler too. We must have drifted right into the center of the current during the night. Far below, I could see creatures stirring, and I gasped as a group of Mudlappers surfaced around the barge, spraying some water out of their nostrils. The light tans and greens of their fur glistened with water and reflected light. A large one drifter closer, and I switched to lay on my stomach, reaching out and stroking the top of his smooth head. He hummed, and the entire pod started to swirl and play as their alpha was content. A few minutes into this display of trust, the rest of my companions woke up, and we smiled to watch them. Braggart stretched, smiling. "So, where are we now, Ms. Navigator? Obviously the raft came free while you were on watch."

I started. "Um… I don't know. I was watching, and we were still stuck, but…"

"But what, Frost." His voice was harsh, like it always was when he knew that I had slipped up.

"Um, it was really soothing and I fell asleep and we drifted off? But it's okay. We're not in any danger here. The Mudlappers would let us know if anything were amiss." I went to point them out, but they were gone.

"This is very bad. We are in the center of the swamp."

"Huh?" I turned to the guide. "No, that's good. That's where we wanted to be."

His voice got higher in tone, and Legato shivered on my shoulder, finally awake. "This is the cursed land. We should not have come here." He pointed out to where the banks were just visible of small, swampy islands. "There is bad magic here. It will curse us too." I shaded my eyes as I peered into the shadows, just making out figures. Twisted, uneven, and irregular structures lined the edge, bristling with moss, sticks, and other objects, standing a nerve-rattling sentry. "Those show this belongs to the creature. It will be very angry. We must leave now." He trotted to the edge, submerging his pole and trying to steer us into another tributary. But the harder he struggled, the less it seemed to do. Our barge drifted towards the towers, and eventually beached directly in front of them. This just made the guide fly into an all-out panic, shoving his pole against the ground and pushing with all his might. I glanced at Braggart, and saw my own spook being reflected in his eyes. It was starting to get to us. We joined him, and finally managed to free us from the soft muck with a loud *shloop!*, sending us careening in the opposite direction and flat on our backs on the deck. We had no time to scramble back up before the raft slammed headfirst into another tree, snapping several of the top boards. The second impact tossed us off, into the murk below. We surfaced, gasping, and with Braggart valiantly holding Sliplock above the water in his helmet. We turned to the barge, but it was gone. Whether it had sunk, come apart, or floated off I had no clue, but it just wasn't there.

"Frost, I can't tread water forever, here!" I turned to him, seeing him struggling with the panicking slime fury. I stroked over, taking the helm myself and stroking over to the nearest swamp island. I hauled myself through the sludge at its edge before collapsing on the relatively dry and solid top, thankful for this at least not being the open ocean. I was quickly joined by Braggart and the guide, who was mumbling vaque words the whole while.

"So, beautiful reactions everyone. A+ effort." I rung out my braid, sarcasm taking over.

"It's not like you did any better."

"At least I was more helpful than Ghost Story over there." I jerked a thumb at the now-kneeling guide who was seeming to have some sort of reaction to the sheer presence of the totem things.

Braggart let out a hysterical laugh. "This is perfect! Why did we leave the dragons behind, again?"

"Because they wouldn't fit on the barge and the trees make it impossible to fly here."

"So perfect!" He ran his hands through his dripping hair, kicking at the sod beneath his feet.

"It's fine. We'll just find some Mudlappers, and they can swim us out of here. They love to be helpful."

Now the guide finally snapped out of his rut. "No! I told you! This is cursed land! The others DO NOT COME HERE! We are now trapped forever, doomed to become one of THOSE!" He jabbed at one of the towers, fear raw and almost ruled out with repulsion.

I walked closer, but not so close as to touch one. They were vaguely coffin shaped, and they could easily fit a human inside... I shivered. I counted up the towers. "7... 10.. 13.. 29..." I gave up, marveling at the pure amount. My voice quavered, and Legato clung tighter, sensing my unease. "How, exactly, do the myths say we become one of those?"

"The monster comes out of the water at night, and he buries us in swamp mud, and then slowly sucks out our moisture through our heads, and then he buries our heads and decorates our corpeses to add to his garden of DEATH!" He descended once more into inarticulate manic panic, curling into a small ball on the ground.

"Frost.. That gives us the rest of the day to figure something out." I turned to look at him, clutching Sliplock to his head and still dripping swamp ooze. I merely nodded. Most myths had some grain of truth to them, and I wasn't about to find out which parts of this were true.

"There's plenty of trees, we can build a raft. Or we can swim. I'm sure if we work our way back some, we can find those Mudlappers again once we're free of... this place." I shivered, unnerved by the pause in my own voice.

"Well, that current was strong. Strong enough that _he_ " he jerked a thumb at the huddled pile of tears, "couldn't over come it, so I think swimming is out. And how would we make a raft? There are trees, but trees don't exactly come pre-cut, and we don't exactly have rope. Not to mention, a raft didn't get us out of here in the first place." His poor attitude really was grating on me.

"Well, sor-ry for trying to be helpful! What would you suggest!"

"I don't know!" We glared at each other before looking away again. We couldn't stand being mad at each other. It was rare, but our fights always made a rift, and we both hated them. "Why- why don't you send Legato to go find the Mudlappers? He could lead them back to get us, and then we could ride them out. They'd be strong enough, right?"

I nodded, unwilling to part with my close companion. I pulled him down from my shoulder, holding him like a small child at arm's length. His bright eyes glimmered, and I saw my own scared, filthy face reflected in them. "Legato, I love you, and I need you to do this for us. Go find the Mudlappers. Bring them here to get us." He warbled an unsure note, his ears falling. He knew what this meant. I was sending him off, possibly never to see him again. I hugged him close, not wanting to do this, but knowing it was my only choice. "I know you can do it. I trust you." He snuggled in close, and I knew we both didn't want to be parted. "I love you, my flannel boy." And I tossed him up, watching him flap off through the swamp. I whispered under my breath, "Be safe." I knew he would be at least better off than us.

Braggart and I spent the next several hours sitting back to back keeping watch. We stayed as silent as we could, both because we didn't want to talk about any of this, and also because we didn't want to draw any attention. Suddenly, Braggart stiffened against me. "Frost, Frost! Did you hear that?" I could hear his urgency, but had missed whatever he had heard. I was silent, straining to sharpen my ears. Suddenly, in the distance I heard a distinct splash, like something heavy dropping into the water from a good height. After a few minutes, it sounded again. This continued for countless spans of time, the two of us shivering against each other as we kept watch in opposite directions. I silently pleaded for Legato to find the Mudlappers and convince them to rescue us.

As the day wore on, Sliplock got braver, getting out of Braggart's arms and padding down to the edge of the swamp to paw at the strange substance that was almost similar to his own. The splashes eventually stopped, and relative silence once again filled the thick, oppressive air. I pulled an apple out of my satchel, wondering if the swamp water would have done anything to make it unedible. Deciding I didn't care as my chances looked bleak anyhows, I went to take a bite, only to have it snatched up by the guide. His eyes quivered and shook in lunacy and crazed fear. I said nothing, and would have left it go had Sliplock not tried to come to my rescue. He lept at the rude guide, knocking the apple and sending it rolling and bouncing down into the water. There it bobbed, caught in an eddy and remaining in the same part of the flow. I watched it's methodical movements, stroking the little green slime fury who now was sitting at my side. Slowly, I noticed that the apple wasn't moving just with the eddy… it was moving as if being pushed from below. Sliplock crept down to the edge, slowly cautiously. I hissed his name under my breath, but he either didn't hear or was intent on ignoring me. He gazed at it, leaning slightly forward on his four paws. Suddenly, a figure exploded from the water, gripping Sliplock and pulling him down! Braggart and I leapt to the edge, gathering whatever we could grab and pulling. I felt slime give way under my fingers, and in horror I held tighter, not wanting to lose one of my dragons in such a horrid manner. We heaved backwards- and a few small clumps of slime came tumbling on top of us. In my haste I started shoving it together, not caring how much dirt was trapped in between. It sat their, wiggling slightly from our touches, but otherwise unmoving. I looked away, sure of the worst. I glanced discreetly to Braggart, who had the same expression in his eyes of despair. We sat down once more, back to back. Now fully dragonless and my apple gone, I could truly do nothing but wait- either for some horrid death or for hope in the form of Legato.

I must have nodded off somewhere in that long, stressful night because the next thing I knew, I was stiff and dry, leaning on Braggart's thin back. Scant light was just starting to appear off to our right, signaling the approaching dawn. I smirked tiredly, my voice cracking from disuse. "It seems our guide was more fiction than fact." Braggart didn't respond, but I could feel his twitching muscles through our backs, and I knew he was holding back nervous laughter and relief. I turned to look at our guide, but he was gone- only his pole lying on the ground. I sucked in a breath. That pole had been his one piece of solace since first getting here. He had told us that such a tool could mean life or death in this harsh environment. Well, apparently it meant death this time. I poked Braggart, nodding over towards the pole. His eyes widened, but he stayed silent.

"Le-let's switch directions…" I threw my aching joints into action, managing to stand up with some slight struggling. He stood up as well, and we turned, now looking at each other's portion of the swamp from yesterday. I was almost sorry that I had spoken at all. Before, I could watch for Legato, and peer down further into the open waters of the swamp. Now, I could only see the tiny mounded islands bordering the channel, dotted every direction with the mud totems. Each one looked sinister in the rising light as they groped towards unseen objects in the air. I tried to only gaze at them, without really looking, but they drew you in and compelled you to wonder who they had once been. What poor soul was locked within that rock-like tomb? Slowly, spectres of the mind started to overwhelm me, and I wondered how Braggart hadn't gone mad staring at them for so many hours.

As my mind swirled with thoughts of bloody murders and savage maulings, my fevered brain started to notice a small sparkle on one of the totems. I tilted my head, trying to get my brain to function. I slowly stood up, walking towards it. Braggart spun around in alarm, anxiously whispering my name. "Frost! Frost, where are you going?!" But I said nothing, pulled forward by a force as strong as iron chains, splashing across one of the shallow channels between the islands.

Slowly, I reached up, stretching for the glint of gold on the top of one of the totems. My fingers were less than an inch away from brushing its metallic surface when I was tackled to the ground by Braggart. "Frost! Have you lost your mind?! What are you doing?!" I shook my head, the trance broken. Braggart was shivering in rage and fear.

"I- I know this." I turned to look at it, but he yanked my chin back to face him.

"No. We're not messing with this stuff. Legato will be back soon. Then we'll go home and all this spooky voodoo magic stuff will be over."

"Bu- but..." My mind was swirling again, confusing itself. I struggled, but Braggart held me tight, pinning me to the ground.

"Frost." He hissed my name like a snake. "We can't mess with this. I know what those things do. They confuse you. But you need to fight it." His voice turned into a whining plead. He knew he was losing me, just as much as I was losing me. I stopped struggling, and his grip started to loosen. Then suddenly I snapped my body up against his, shifting him enough for me to get out from under him for a second.

Braggart rolled off me, disgusted. Whether with himself for letting me go or with me for still acting crazy, I couldn't tell. I stood up, not bothering to brush myself off. I reached up, stroking the metal. It was a small, smoothed triangle, poking out of the mud. I put my fingers on it, starting to pull, but it didn't budge. Determined, I started scratching at the still-damp mud around it, slowly crumbling this lump on the totem.

Braggart came over, his back to me as he kept a lookout, glancing over every once in a while with an irritated look on his face. When my nails reached something solid, I changed direction, working to free this object from the structure. After turning a corner, I managed to get my fingers under it, and started trying to pull it again. When I couldn't Braggart sighed, coming over to it himself. "Move over. I'll get it."

I slid over, silent and emotionless. With a few sharp tugs he had it free, causing a mini landslide of not-yet-solid mud and clay. He handed it over, and I instantly knew I was right. I shivered, my voice less than a whisper. "It's my book."

He turned to look at me, scrutinizing me. "What do you mean?"

My eyes were wide in fear as my fingers shook, repulsed by the presence of my once-most-precious possession. I simply shook my head, unable to voice my fears. Not that I could. My throat was sealing up in raw panic, my pace quickening. I started to hyperventilate, and would have fallen face-first into the swamp waters had it not been for Braggart's quick reflexes.

"Now calm down. You're hurting yourself. What is it?" His voice was firm and harsh. I struggled back to it; tried to let it be my anchor in this swirl of sheer terror. I let out a small moan, resting my head on my knees for a minute before taking a few deep gulps of air. I held the book up, my hand shaking so badly that the book was wobbling around like it sat on the head of a pin.

"I-It was o-open. Pa- page .. fif-fifty thr-three-ee." My slight sobs and deep breaths still rocked my body as he tried to pry the now-closed swamp-soaked pages apart. It tore in his hands as he ripped his way to the center, but it didn't matter. As long as most of the page were intact, he would soon know.

"Lantanis Swamp Fury." His voice was puzzled as he read it in otherwise even tones. "Buries its victims. Extremely Dangerous. Kill on sight." He paused, turning to question me. His face was incredulous. "We're sure this is your book? You did away with all of that garbage."

I nodded, sniffling now. "It's mine. Keep reading." He needed to know.

"Survived Encounters: 1. So what? It's rare. ...Deadly encounters: … 341." His voice cracked. He started to twist and turn the torn edges, trying to find more information. "Where's the rest!?" He seemed frantic.

"There isn't." I had calmed down enough that my voice was now solid. "The only other thing shown was a very blurry sketch. That's all the survivor ever could add."

"But, we'll bump the survivals up to 3." He gave a nervous laugh that didn't fool me one second. "Le-legato will get back. He'll be here soon. So, um, let's just go si-" I stepped up, brushing some more dirt off the totem.

"Braggart, I don't think we're getting out of this one." I didn't need to say anything more. The husk within spoke volumes without making a sound. Braggart seemed to choke slightly for a minute before turning away. I followed, and we walked back to sit on the island back to back again. "He tried to use my book to protect himself. But it didn't matter. It got him anyway."

"..." Braggart was silent, before letting out a chilling thought. "Maybe he wasn't trying to help himself. Maybe he was trying to warn us. To let us know." My throat closed again as I thought of all the horrible thoughts I'd had about his cowardice and bad attitude. But he'd tried to warn us.

That night was the most drawn out experience in my life. I waited, knowing that it would be back. And I was right. I wasn't sure if Braggart was still awake, but I doubted that he was asleep. In the distance I heard the splashes again, and slowly saw a pair of green glows disappear. I stiffened, reaching for Braggart's hand. He turned, staring out to where I had seen them. Slowly, we both stood up, the anxiety building. We wanted to at least give ourselves a chance of fighting this _thing._

Suddenly, a plume of water erupted from our opposite sides! We pivoted, but the creature was too fast, already away out of sight. It continued this game, until we stood back to back once more, watching. Each of us had a hand on the guide's pole, holding it between us in case of defense. Suddenly, it revealed itself, sauntering up to grin at us smugly from an island across the channel. My heart stopped. This beast looked like a night fury, but its gaze held no curiosity, no warmth. They held only cold calculation and the strange glow of its night vision.

It gave a strange warbling, haunting howl before diving into the swamp water. It surfaced seconds later, slowly swimming across like a crocodile, unhurried and confident of its next meal. I let go of the pole. Braggart shook his head, trying to hand it to me, but I pushed it back. I knew no stick could defend me. I knew Braggart had the best chance of hurting it with his stronger frame and greater combat experience. His gaze hardened, and he stepped forward, holding the pole firmly in both hands. A few feet from the banks it paused, gazing at us malevolently. My pulse pounded in my ears. This was worse than gazing at the totems! My body started to kick into overdrive as the adrenaline rushed through me. The creature came forward, reaching the banks before leaping at us. I tried to dodge, but Braggart managed to block it with his pole. The creature's jaws locked around it, chewing. I gaped in horror, watching Braggart wave it around, beating it against one of the totems. The dragon finally fell, the pole shattering with a deafening crack. Braggart tossed one of the pieces at me, which in my state I fumbled with. Instantly the creature lunged, biting deep into my calf. I screamed, stabbing at it with my piece of the pole. The broken end bristled with splinters, impaling one of its wing fins and staking it to the ground. It let go, tearing itself off and leaping away to one of the totems. There it perched, snarling. Braggart snarled right back, standing over me like a lion over its kill.

The creature cocked its head, then sat, its ears going up like it was listening to us. "Oh come on you little monster! FIGHT ME!" Braggart's voice echoed off the swamp trees, but the dragon just flicked its ears, actually having the audacity to lay down on top of the totem, resting its head on its paws. Braggart's mind was overloaded with fear, adrenaline, and hatred for this creature. When its eyes closed, it was the last straw. He rushed forward, letting out a war cry and stabbing upwards. The creature was a blur as it instantaneously leapt backwards as its eyes sprung back open. Braggart continued to stab at the creature in its position on top of the totem. After several awkward strikes, it tip lodged into the mud- and whatever corpse was within- and refused to come free. Braggart's expression of rage bordered on madness as the creature took advantage of this opening. It catapulted itself at him, knocking him off the bank and into the muck at its edge. They wrestled, all flailing limbs and gnashing teeth as the muck coated the surrounding land. I heaved on my stick, managing to wiggle it free of the ground. Using it, I managed to stand enough to slide down the slight slope to the mud. The dragon was clamped on Braggart's shoulder, slowly chewing its way towards his neck and the precious artery within. Without thinking, I stabbed wildly. There was impact, and a screech of pain. The stick was torn from my grasp, and I saw the creature tumble backwards into the water. It rolled over, tearing at the stick in its now gushing left eye.

I floundered over to Braggart, who was lying groaning in the shallow water. "Darn creature got my good arm." His wry humor came out between gritted teeth.

"I- I hurt it. Quick, while it's busy, let's get out onto the shore again!" I was able to lean his good side against my shoulder, pushing him to a sitting position. But the muck was so thick, it held us like glue. We struggled, looking at the creature with its own problems as we frantically tried to stand. Using my as a lever, he heaved himself to a standing position while pushing me deeper in. I reached up, and he pulled with all his strength as I gasped. My bitten leg gave out just as he managed to get me up, and I leaned on his good right side. We tried to move further, but the mud churned beneath us was like concrete, holding us tight. Each move made us more solidly planted at the edge of safety.

Out of nowhere, a ball of mud shot into my torso, knocking the wind out of me. The beast was once more on the bank, its left eye a dark, gory mess that wept a strange glowing green substance down its scaled cheek. Using its paws and tail, it continued to shovel mud at us, slowly building a pile around our ankles. We struggled all the more as the weight pressed against our legs. It turned deepest black as it mixed with the blood that continued to leak from my leg. In my struggling to get free I lost my balance, collapsing backwards. My arms shot out to catch me, and I landed hard on my butt, my palms stuck in the muck.

Braggart tried to turn and help, but only succeeded in twisting around before collapsing himself as his balance overshot. There we laid, trapped and unable to work ourselves up to more than a sitting position as we were slowly coated in mud. It seemed there wouldn't be a totem for us- there would be a small hill, among all the other small hills in this swamp. The mud continued to pack down around us, working out the air gaps and compacting into a solid mass that prevented movement. Even breathing was starting to get harder. Suddenly, the barrage of mud stopped, and I opened my eyes. Braggart was staring back and me, and I knew we both understood what was coming.

The Lantanis Swamp Fury, the infamous creature from my book, sauntered over, her gaze cunning and smug. She slowly climbed on top of the pile of silt that coated us, savoring her victory. She came to around where my neck was, her front paws standing on either side of my ears. Slowly, she lowered her jaws to be just brushing mine, her tongue coming out and pushing its way into my mouth as her eyes watched me squirm and resist. Instantly some sort of substance that burned like fire seeped into my mouth and down my throat. I tried to close my jaw, but the strange liquid had also numbed my muscles- or maybe simply destroyed the nerve cells. I could hear Braggart shouting at the creature, but it didn't mean anything. I screamed in pain, the sound quickly mutating into a sob before being silenced as the liquid ate my vocal cords. I could feel it inside me- burning and numb at the same time, turning me into something else. The creature sat watching me writhe inside my casket of mud, before finally I started coughing up blood as it ate my lungs apart. My last three minutes dragged on in excruciating slowness even as my mind was in overdrive. I was choking- no, melting; dissolving. Just as my brain started to fade to black the creature made my last seconds even more horrific- It leaned in, inserted its tongue once more, and started to _suck_ at the muddled liquids inside my body.

Braggart watched in horror as the creature ate at Frost like some kind of water spider from hell. He shouted and struggled, trying to somehow either break free or scare it off. If he could get out, maybe he could finish it- give Frostfire a proper burial. But it was no use, and soon the creature turned its attentions to him. It grimaced, its jaws coated in dripping, oozing blood and dissolved tissue. He didn't want to see, but his will died, compelled to see what it had done to his older sister. He instantly wished he hadn't looked. All that was left was a dried-out shell. The skin was intact, but the creature had sucked out all the moisture and dissolved organs through her mouth. Her jaw hung open in a silent scream, and her eyes stared at nothing.

He was in a state of shock, unable to think or move as the creature pulled up more silt from the bottom of the swamp, covering his sister's corpse completely. When it had coated her completely, it turned to him. Its hunger would very much be satisfied this night.

Legato returned early the next day, a pod of Mudlappers on his tail. He circled around the island where he had last seen his friends, but all he found as evidence was a pile of dried and hardened slime, a destroyed book, and a new, large totem. He howled his grief and confusion to the careless trees, unaware that the death count would now total 345.


	5. Geist

Author's Note: This story receives a warning. THIS STORY IS GRAPHIC. It is solidly in the horror genre. I used this story to adopt Phantasm, the ghost fury, from NightmareRebuff. As always, he can be seen in my (Frostfire Markson) signature on the School of Dragons forum.

* * *

"Get those night furies over to the cart. Their pelts will fetch the highest price." The heavy-shouldered viking hefted his axe back onto his shoulder. The parents had been tricky, but now with them out of the way, the hatchlings would be less than easy. They were only a few weeks old, tops. He walked up, no pretense of caution. As his men finished loading the bodies, they joined him, deciding where to start in the nest.

"Take the purple one. I don't like the way its looking at us."

The leader sneered, reaching down into the stunned and still hatchlings that were backed against the cliff wall of their home. As he lifted the scrawny thing by the scruff of its tiny neck, it struggled ineffectively. They all laughed. "Sorry, sweetheart," he simpered, "but you're no match for me." He breathed out heavily, before wringing its neck. He tossed it to one of the other dragon hunters, they carelessly tossed it into the back of the cart as well. "One down, six to go." The hatchlings were too young to fly; too young to truly control their fire. Their scales weren't even hardened yet. But still they tried to escape or fight as best they could. Within minutes four more tiny bodies were sitting on the hunters' pile of prizes.

"I'll do this one, boss." The skinniest of the three walked up from his place by the cart, pulling out his dagger. At this point the last two were all the way back under the overhang of their little nest. They were whimpering in terror as the hand came in, leaving no way around for escape. It groped for a minute, then recoiled. "Dam dragon bit me! Little monster!" Several more expletives followed as he jerked the dragon out, shaking it around. "How do you like that, huh?! You little brat!" He slammed it up against the cliff, making it see stars and go cross eyed, squeaking in pain each time it impacted.

"Eh, Ernith, cut it out, will ya?" The middle viking, a spear and shield across his back, requested. "They'll fetch better if the pelts aren't damaged."

"Shut up, you!" Ernith barked at his fellow hunter. "We don't need these little brutes for profit- just their parents. I can do whatever I wish to these guys." To emphasize this, he shook the black fury around some more before slamming him against the ground, pinning him there.

The middle viking looked at his boss, imploring him. He rolled his eyes, but also joined in. "Enough, Ernith. Just finish it up so we can get moving. You're wasting time on a pointless hatchling." Ernith glared at his boss, then turned to finish the job. He lifted his dagger.

A green blur erupted from the nest, attempting an escape. Ernith dove forward to pin it, freeing the black one in the process. As he struggled across the ledge, the tiny green dragon let out a small bolt of plasma, hitting Ernith in the eyes. He roared, holding his face. The leader of the hunters suddenly appeared in front of it, clamping his large hands over its body. He turned to the middle viking. "Dyrven, did you capture the black one?"

Dyrven shook his head, disgusted. "No, Lord Basquer. It managed to slip away when our _companion_ here," he sneered, kicking at his still-struggling shins, "started rolling around on the cliffs. It dashed into the crack in the rocks there, and this yak-brain was in the way so that I couldn't get more than a yank on his tail. He's long gone now, most likely in the caving systems at this point." Lord Basquer swore himself.

"My eyes! He's done got my eyes!" Ernith wailed, and the still angered Basquer kneeled down, roughly prying his hands from his face. The skin was bubbled and cracking at the same time. The eyes were swollen shut, but he could tell that Ernith would never see again.

"Stop your wailing. You got your wish; you're not going to have to get bit by any more dragons in the field." He scooped him up before dropping him in the back of the cart. Dyrven approached, pointing to the still-struggling green fury in Basquer's enormous hands.

"Let's just finish that thing so this whole trip can be over with." Basquer walked back over to the cliff edge where the convenient rock they were using as a butcher block was sitting. He pressed the beast against it, pulling his axe off its sheath on his back. He lifted it, then slowly lowered it. He turned to look heavily at Dyrven.

"Knife." Dyrven was shocked.

"Sir?"

"Give me Ernith's knife. Now."

"But, your axe is much faste-"

"I don't care." His voice was deadly calm. "That idiot may have got what he deserved, but truthfully I am not happy to be losing one of my hunters. Finding good dragon killers who can bring them down without scarring the skin is something rare. If he will never see again, then neither will this hatchling; it will die in darkness." He chuckled. "Besides, he was right. We don't need these shrimp to make our profit." Slowly, Dyrven relinquished the dagger, flipping the handle to his boss. He took up the object, slowly lowering it to the dragon's face. "You're going to die slowly, devil." His face was a mask of evil pleasure. The bright, perfect tip of the dagger slowly descended, sinking into the flesh of its right eye. The tiny dragon squealed and thrashed, its movements only grinding the blade around more in its eye. The viking grinned as the damage first started slowly, the iris and whites turning red before finally spilling out its jelly-like contents. He twisted and pulled, bringing the eye fully from the socket. The dragon stopped squealing, panting in heavy breaths as it tried to endure the pain. It waved its head wildly around, trying to run, to ESCAPE!

"Halfway there now, almost done." His voice was honey, sing-songing the words like a croon. Dyrven shivered from his post by the cart. This was why he never left. He was sure his boss would murder him if he tried to leave. "Eh, eh, calm down. Time for the left." The dagger descended once more, this time going into the socket next to the eye as opposed to its center. With a swift flick, the eye popped out, dangling on its nerve. The dragon let out the worst shriek yet, the eye bouncing on its fleshy cord as it waved wildly. Blood soaked its face and jaws, flowing fast and freely everywhere over the stone. In its struggles, it knocked its head against the blade again, finally severing the eye and leaving a long laceration along the side of its head. It started to cough and attempt to roll more than flee now- the blood was starting to choke it, filling its nose and mouth. Instead of a mercy kill at this point, Basquer simply put the knife on the ground. He watched as its struggles lessened, its life leaching out in each painful pulse of blood flowing through its burst veins. Finally, it quit struggling, and he lost interest. The fun was over. He stood back up fully, dangling the mangled body by the tail for a second. He didn't even deem it worthy of the cart, tossing it instead against the cliff with all his might. There was an audible snap, and a final whoosh as what air was still in its lungs left. He turned, wiping the dagger on the stone before tossing it on top of Ernith.

"Let's move out." He headed to the front as Dyrven checked the back of the cart. He started to head to the front, to pull it with his boss, but suddenly the dagger flew at him! It clipped the back of his head, causing the initial turn. Suddenly the dagger was flying everywhere! It would rocket past close enough to cut, then suddenly stop and pivot before zooming back. Within seconds Dyrven was covered in dripping wounds, collapsing to the ground. As he lay panting, attempting for his shield, the dagger lodged itself inside his abdomen. It twisted, cutting the organs within. Dyrven let out a full bodied howl that turned to a high-pitched shriek as the pain intensified. The dagger dug deeper, throwing blood and tissue everywhere. Once fully inside his body, it slowly moved upwards through his chest. It let his natural- his necessary- actions of breathing and the beat of his heart cause the muscles to cut themselves on its edge. It just sat there, letting the body cut itself to ribbons on its blade. When the motions finally stopped, it shot out its victim's throat, tearing a new gory hole- not that it mattered at this point. It instantly shot down the path that Basquer had taken with the cart as he retreated from this supernatural force. It caught up in seconds, honing in on the still-moaning Ernith. It stabbed itself through the backs of his hand and into his eye again, twisting just as Basquer had done only minutes before. Once satisfied, it moved to the other. It paid no heed to Ernith's shrieks and cries for mercy. It ignored his curses and prayers. It was an emotionless force of vengeance. It couldn't be appealed to.

It pulled free, causing a new surge of red. Finally, it used its tip to caress the bottom of his jaw. He shivered, whimpering. "Ba-Basquer? I didn't mean it! I don't car- AArarrrhcchcggghhhh…" His voice ended as his mouth was clamped shut. The dagger had gone through his jaw, tongue, palate, and into his brain. It gave a final twist before releasing. At the arrival of the dagger, Basquer had backed off, but he wasn't prepared to abandon his prizes. Night furies were worth a small fortune! He drew his axe as the opposing weapon hovered a few feet in front of his face. It seemed a stand-off would be all that this encounter would produce, but suddenly it shot forward! He parried, tossing it to the side. A duel started, the dagger unable to be harmed and the viking determined not to lose. But despite his prowess, there was no wielder to injure, no tricks to pull that would do more than delay this force of malevolence.

The dagger got past his guard, stopping with its tip brushing his nose lightly. It paused before slashing down across his face, opening a deep diagonal gash. In an attempt to stop it, he grabbed the blade, but it simply continued to move, his hand going along with it. The blade proceeded to add every injury that could be inflicted without killing him. By the time it stopped, the mighty warrior was on his knees, soaked in blood and sweat, thoroughly defeated. The dagger hovered in front of his face, taunting him. He screamed at the entity. "JUST DO IT! KILL ME ALREADY! FINISH ME!" But instead the dagger dropped to the ground. In its place, floating inches from his face was a perfect copy of the dragon hatchling. He shrieked, tumbling and trying to crawl away from it all while staring at the unmoving image. He could see his cart behind- no, _through_ it's still wings. It leisurely floated towards him, staring into his eyes- the one thing it hadn't touched. His eyes were locked onto the gaping black holes that were its ghostly eyes. Two red pinpricks floated in the centers, never blinking. His mind started to slip like the blood that was leaking out all over his body, but he forced it back in place enough to shout, "JUST GET YOUR REVENGE ALREADY! END THIS!" As it came close enough that he could feel the stillness it inhabited, he could practically see it thinking. It's gaze held no mercy. And he knew it would not be so simple. This creature wanted to do to _him_ what he had done to _it_ \- plus interest for his family. It gave a silent growl before charging at him- and he gave one final shriek before falling silent, falling to the ground.

The viking's hand jerkily placed his palm on the soil. The other soon followed, and he started to push himself up. After several attempts, he managed to stand, swaying slightly. He picked up his axe, sheathing it on the third attempt, and then picked up the dagger in front of him. He held it in his left hand, running the blade over the palm of his right as he started to walk into the woods. His footsteps were uneven and jerky, but he slowly started to head towards the plume of smoke just visible in the distance, cutting himself the whole while.


	6. Belong

Author's Note: While not a true adoption story, this is still a short story that I am very happy with. And inadvertently it did cause me to adopt my Sandscritter, Glaze. It also won me a spot as one of NightmareRebuff's spotlighted authors for her horror themed dragon origin story. And so, it goes without saying that THIS STORY CONTAINS PSYCHOLOGICAL HORROR. It is set in the horror genre. That said, it is not so bad as Lantanis' (Swamp Demon) or Phantasm's (Geist) story.

* * *

"Oh gods! Gods, gods, gods, GODS!" The girl screamed down the narrow trail along the cliff tops. The twisting path was treacherous when walked, but her full-out sprint could mean death. If it didn't find her sooner. She couldn't look back. Couldn't stop. Couldn't think. Just duck, dodge, twist, MOVE. She had to get away, no matter how much she wanted to go back.

"Don't fear. It's painless. It's beautiful. Then you'll belong truly. You'll be part of the town." The leader had tried to convince her to join them in their customs. To stay, and to belong. The townsfolk had welcomed her with open arms. Had treated her like she was a returning royal. But the placid people and idyllic town were anything but. She should have run when she had first seen those _things_ , but she had been admittedly intrigued. Wings- _dragon wings_ \- on _vikings_. It was something to make any person curious. But now she was running anyway, and she knew that she would probably never stop now. Not until the end met her.

"Sundra! Over here!" The girl spun to a halt, scanning the dark stone and undergrowth for the source of the voice. Two eyes met her own, and she darted out of the main path. Under the cover of the dark canopy, she made out the dim form of the young lad who had so desperately warned her to leave the second she had set foot in the town.

"Darten, oh, you don't know how glad I am to see you! Come on, let's get out of here! Let's leave!" She went to pull his hand, to dart off again with him in tow, but his arm jerked, and she looked more closely into his eyes. They were filling with tears, and his face showed great strain, like he was fighting desperately against some force. Sundra backed up in horror, watching as a pair of wings opened on his back- no! Two pairs of wings! His twitching face mouthed 'Sorry" before his eyes lost focus again. She full out ran, away down the path again as he followed her. Tears blurred her vision, and she tripped over a root, careening down a hill and landing hard on a boulder, cracking her head to the side. The stars were only starting to clear as the form of her once-trusted friend landed, his four wings moving powerfully in sync. She started trying to get up, but the fall had ruined her coordination, and her eyes were glued on the form in front of her.

He took a step towards her, and fell to his knees, holding his forehead in his hands, tears still streaming down his face. Her rapt and disheveled attention watched as the top pair of wings removed themselves from his back, slowly unhooking from his spine and the other pair of wings. The long, worm-like dragon clattered over the ground, approaching her prone form. It's many hooked claws clicked on the stone like tiny picks, it's wide, vertical jaws open as it scented the air. The fibrous filaments that slowly waved within picked up everything about her- her fear, her age, her gender. The long, pointed tail was the last to remove itself from its previously shared host. Now disconnected, it had but minutes to assimilate to its new form. Sundra kicked at it, but the rubbery creature just sprung back into place. She backed up, trying to run. Faster than you would think it could move, the creature leapt at her. It skittered all over her body, it's tiny claws digging into her skin as it moved to its rightful position. As it crawled down her back, she let herself fall, striking herself against the rock in an attempt to crush it. But there were no major organs to harm. She cried out as she only succeeded in injuring herself. Through her tears she could barely see Darten, who was now moaning and cradling himself, looking at her in horror.

The nerves all over her back were tingling with the sheer _wrong-ness_ of the presence of the beast, but it was too late. Seconds stretched out so that she could feel- or at least imagine feeling- every part of the near instantaneous process. It settled over top of her spine, matching itself to her body. Its wings spread out from her shoulders, and its long tail lashed out past her own legs. The tiny hooks that ran the length of its horrid body dug into the skin and tissue around her spine. The numbness spread across its length. She couldn't feel, but yet somehow could feel the tiny hooks finally entering the disks between her vertebrae. The thin filaments emerging from their tips and wrapping around the nerves of her spinal column. As the full numbness set in, she only felt a slight pinch as its mouth opened wide before sealing itself to the skin at the base of her skull. The filaments from its mouth spread into her as well, slowly extending into the cranial cavity and infiltrating the nerves. The process complete, the girl could only lay there, stunned and dead inside as the parasite staked its claim.

It may have been minutes, or it may have been hours before the two children finally fully regained themselves. Using each other for support, they stood, slowly limping their way back to the one place that they now belonged. Inside, they stared with dead eyes at the rest of the people, who were now just the same as them. They smiled the same smiles, and welcomed the girl as they had before. "I promise you, it is worth it. It may not be an easy transition, but I knew that you would come around to see it our way. They always do..."


End file.
